


my changing blood that hoards

by apostolosian (mercutioes)



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: (but like.... pretty tame bloodplay), Bloodplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Character, lots o' kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutioes/pseuds/apostolosian
Summary: a cut sparks something between them





	my changing blood that hoards

**Author's Note:**

> i asked for prompts on the fuck discord and jag said "throndir/ephrim bloodplay" and of course my brain was immediately like "what if you wrote 1000+ words for this" so here we are
> 
> title from "blood and seashell" by winfield townley scott

Ephrim's finally starting to get used to the physical labor required to rebuild their crumbling, isolated haven into somewhere habitable.  Putting the abandoned university to rights requires everyone's help, and, despite Ephrim's former prince-hood, most people look at him and see another pair of hands, same as anyone else.

He supposes he's grateful for that in a strange way.

Throndir has proven a skilled leader, a better friend, and an almost-nightly comfort, though there's a coldness behind his eyes that comes through when he thinks no one is looking.  And if Ephrim sometimes feels quiet and tired after spending time with him, well.  He explains it away as a bad night's sleep or spoiled food.  How would he even confront Throndir about it?  _Hey, I always feel tired and weird after we spend time together, what’s going on?_   Better to keep quiet, let Throndir have his secrets.  There are bigger things to deal with than his friend’s (lover’s?) eccentricities.

Today, he's working alongside Throndir in an abandoned tower, trying to make it somewhat livable.  Loose stones litter the floor from years of wear and neglect and vines grow along the cracks in the walls.  They work quietly, side-by-side, putting stones back in place and shoving debris to the sides of the room.  When they're done, they'll erect wooden dividers and curtains to turn the wide-open space into a home for at least two families.  It's hard work, but there's a strange satisfaction in it that Ephrim feels like he's been searching years and years to find.

Ephrim goes to pull down a particularly stubborn vine and sucks in a breath when a thorn slices through his finger.  Blood oozes from the wound, and he curses, bringing it to his mouth.

"You okay?" asks Throndir, dropping the dilapidated book he was holding and moving quickly to Ephrim's side.

"I'm _fine_ ," he says, pulling his finger back to examine it.  It's still bleeding pretty heavily, stinging when it hits the air, but it's not too deep or wide.

Throndir takes his hand gingerly between his own, bringing the cut up to his face to look closer.  His hands are big and rough and dark, slightly cool like they always are, and Ephrim fights back a shiver at the tenderness of the touch.  He puts on an arrogant front as a reflex, smirks at Throndir and says, “Are you going to kiss it better?”

His breath catches in his chest as Throndir calls his bluff and raises his finger slowly to his lips, just brushing the oozing cut with his mouth.  It stings, but Ephrim forgets that entirely when Throndir swipes his tongue over the blood smeared on his bottom lip.

Like he’s in a trance, Ephrim traces his finger over Throndir’s curved upper lip, leaving a bright red sheen where the wound has passed.  Throndir’s pupils widen, something predatory alighting in them, and Ephrim shivers at the sight.

“Ephrim…” he rasps, a warning in his voice that sparks something hot in the pit of Ephrim’s stomach.  But Ephrim’s always been one to push the limits he’s given, so he pulls his finger back and brings it up to his own mouth, smearing red onto his bottom lip, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

In an instant, he’s pinned against the room’s stone wall, Throndir’s lips furious and insistent on his own.  Ephrim groans, holding onto Throndir’s shoulders for dear life, the copper-salt taste of his blood permeating the kiss.  It’s like it’s awakened something in Throndir, something base and animal and _magnetic_ , and Ephrim can’t help but want to offer his throat up to him, to let Throndir take whatever he wants.

Ephrim nips sharply at Throndir’s bottom lip, hard enough to split the skin, and Throndir almost _growls_ , pinning him harder against the stones.  Their blood mingles in the kiss, the taste metal-bright and enthralling.  Throndir moves to press his lips to Ephrim’s jaw, down his throat, sloppy kisses full of intent.  He leaves bloody marks wherever his lips land, wet and shining on Ephrim’s milk-pale skin.  Ephrim fists a hand in his shaggy hair, keens when Throndir bites sharp at the hollow of his throat.

“I should get hurt more often,” he gasps, and Throndir pulls back quickly, eyes bright and shining.

“Don’t you dare,” he breathes, intense in a way that knocks Ephrim off-balance.  He brings Ephrim’s hand up to his lips again, not breaking eye contact, and slips Ephrim’s finger into his mouth.  It stings, the pain sharp and bright, but the warmth of Throndir’s mouth and the steeliness of his gaze makes Ephrim whine.  He lets the finger slip from his mouth with an obscene sound, spit and blood glistening on his lower lip, and Ephrim can’t help but lean in to kiss him again, hungry and wanting, hands scrabbling at Throndir’s upper arms.

Throndir grasps his wrists, pins them up against the wall, and Ephrim groans into his mouth.

“Keep them there,” pants Throndir, letting him go and dropping to his knees on the stone floor.  He undoes Ephrim’s pants with a deft movement, pulls them down enough to get his mouth on Ephrim’s cunt, already soaking wet.  Ephrim keens, wants so badly to move his hands but the sharpness in Throndir’s eyes keeps them exactly where he put them.

Throndir eats him out like he’s starving, mouth working over him quick and sloppy.  There’s a new desperation in the air between them that Ephrim doesn’t really want to examine right now, so he instead focuses on the excruciating sharp pleasure that spikes through him as Throndir closes his lips around his clit and _sucks_.

It doesn’t take much before Ephrim is coming with a shout, hard and intense, fingers scrabbling at the stone wall behind him and legs shaking on either side of Throndir’s head.  He hears a low moan and looks down to see Throndir with a hand shoved down his pants, rubbing furiously at himself, close to coming.

Ephrim tugs him back to his feet, swapping their positions and pressing Throndir’s back against the wall.  He snakes his own hand into Throndir’s pants, finds him sopping wet and ready.  He circles his clit, leans in to kiss Throndir messily, the sharp tang of blood still present in the meeting of their lips.

And all at once Throndir is coming, hands fisting in Ephrim’s hair and wetness dripping over Ephrim’s fingers.  Their kiss slows gradually, lips losing their urgency until they’re simply standing together, breathing each other’s air.

Throndir laughs quietly, a rasping thing, and Ephrim takes a step back.  He starts to refasten his pants when Throndir takes hold of his hand.  The cut on his finger is starting to scab over.  Throndir wraps a small bandage around it, pulled from some pocket of his coat, and smiles softly.  They straighten themselves up as much as they can before Throndir takes his hand, kisses the bandage once, and starts heading toward the exit.

“Come on,” he says, tugging Ephrim along with him.  “Let’s get out of here and get that looked at.”

And Ephrim can’t help but smile fondly at Throndir’s concern over such a small wound, the strange tension between them broken in the musty, sunlit air of the abandoned tower.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really obsessed with the idea of them becoming the power couple leaders of the new university fortress and fighting the h&d together as justice husbands..........


End file.
